Conscious Dreamer
by Roschelle Templar
Summary: Siegfried discovers a secret hobby of Tristan's that reveals a side of his little brother that he never knew.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

 **Author's Note** : The inspiration for this fic came from two sources...

First off, in Jim Wight's biography of his father, Alf (the actual James Herriot), he mentioned that Alf and Brian Sinclair (who was Tristan in real life) used to come up with these odd little stories involving vets treating dinosaurs that had invaded their village. I thought this was a hopelessly endearing quirk and have wished more than once that it had made it onto the show somehow.

Second, a friend of mine and I were talking about that bit from the biography and thought about how amusing it would be if Siegfried had actually read some of those stories. Thus, the inspiration for this fic was born.

* * *

"Tristan? Tristaaan, where are you?"

Siegfried burst into the surgery and was disappointed by the result. He had just finished searching the rest of Skeldale for his little brother and had hoped to find him here after all those other failures. He'd even had a tiny spark of hope that Tristan would be doing some real work rather than idling away his time which was how Tristan usually filled his hours.

But no, unfortunately, the surgery was empty. By now, James was out inoculating some of Rob Benson's sheep. Tristan's current location and activities, however, remained a mystery.

Siegfried paced about the surgery, scowling. Tristan must have found out somehow that he had intended to send him out this afternoon to check on Dent's latest batch of piglets. His little brother had a knack for knowing just when to avoid him in order to get out of doing additional chores that came up. At this point, there was nothing else that could be done other than putting it on the lists of jobs for tomorrow.

Heaving out a huge sigh, Siegfried pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on while strolling over to the desk. He sat down and began searching for the daybook so he could start planning tomorrow's lists.

Just as he started to reach for it, however, something else caught his eye. Lying on a corner of the desk was a large, hardcover book with a blank, black cover. It only took a second for Siegfried to recognize it as some sort of journal he had seen Tristan using more than once around Skeldale.

' _Well, at least little brother must have gotten in some swotting while he was lazing around here,'_ he used.

Siegfried tilted his head, still staring at the journal sitting in front of him. He thought back to those times when he had seen Tristan writing things into it. Tristan had always appeared engrossed by the activity. In fact, there were even a couple of times when he seemed…amused. At the time, Siegfried had merely been pleased to see his brother being so industrious with his revision.

Then, suddenly, Siegfried realized that whenever he saw Tristan writing his notes, he never had any textbooks around him. No textbooks, no academic journals, no other notes or papers of any kind.

' _Then how the devil could he be writing notes for revision without any study materials? His so-called retentive memory isn't that good. So just what sort of revision is this anyway?'_

Siegfried put a finger to his chin, his feet sliding back and forth on the floor. He knew that he shouldn't pry into Tristan's private journals without his little brother's knowledge. That would be a justifiably unforgivable breach of trust on his part. But this didn't really look like a personal diary of any sort. Then there was the fact that he considered himself Tristan's mentor and a partner in his little brother's education. Far more of a partner than any of Tristan's instructors would ever be. Consequently, it was his duty to keep an eye on the methods Tristan's used in his swotting and to evaluate their results.

Siegfried slowly stood up and crept back to the doorway of the surgery. Mrs. Hall was upstairs still tidying up. Helen wasn't due to return from her errands for at least another couple of hours. And of course, there was still no sign of little brother. Probably snuck off to the Drovers for another pint.

Satisfied that he would be alone for a while, Siegfried slid back into surgery and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he sat back down and picked up the journal from the corner of the desk. He would just skim through his brother's notes. That's all. Just to see if there were any areas where Tristan could use some extra guidance.

He opened the book and flipped to the first page. The entries were dated and didn't appear to be any sort of systematic revision at all. Instead, they appeared to be some kind of prose.

Siegfried's brow furrowed as he glanced through the next few pages. He was starting to wonder if this was a personal diary after all when a fragment of a paragraph near the bottom of the page he was currently looking at caught his attention.

"… _.Corbyn crouched down and peered at the silvery river that wound around the village. Foster had gone ahead of him almost twenty minutes ago and there was still no sign from him. Corbyn knew he could not wait much longer. The thin streaks of pink and orange in the sky signaled the coming dusk. Soon, they would lose any advantage they had over what was creeping in the underbrush a few yards away….."_

Siegfried blinked in surprise. This wasn't anything to do with veterinary studies at all. Nor was it a personal account of Tristan's life. It was a story. But when had Tristan started to write fiction?

" _A roar from behind the trees told him that they were already too late. It was only seconds after that that the Centrosaurus appeared, crashing through the brush. He was not like the others. He only dashed about like this if there was a good reason. A reason like the recent appearance of the terrible Drytosaurus that had infiltrated the fells of late…."_

Siegfried blinked again, his astonishment growing as he immediately turned back to the beginning of the journal so he could scan the pages in order.

He soon realized that all of these writings focused on the story of a young vet named Corbyn and his world-traveling adventurer and best friend, Foster who found themselves stumbling upon an isolated village in the Dales. A village which just happened to have been overrun by smaller versions of dinosaurs from ancient history.

Siegfried shook his head. What absurd ideas his little brother came up with. A vet studying and treating dinosaurs in modern times? An English village that was built upon caverns that hid the remains of a lost civilization? How on Earth did Tristan imagine such things? On the surface, it seemed like the sort of dross that that American writer, Burroughs, would write. Not that _all_ of Burroughs' work was subpar, but still….

Once more, he went back to the beginning, and this time, he carefully read each page, occasionally despairing over Tristan's sloppy handwriting. Mainly to assess his little brother's literary prowess, of course. Siegfried hated to think that all those years Tristan spent in that fine public school had gone to waste.

The earliest parts were disjointed, as if Tristan was simply trying out a variety of characters that amused him. Other paragraphs were descriptions: of the village, the underground caverns and the archeological treasures inside them, and naturally, the dinosaurs. Of all of it, Siegfried appreciated the detailed commentary on the dinosaurs the most as the descriptions demonstrated a thorough thought process about their theoretical anatomy and knowledge of the latest finds in paleontology.

The actual tale did not begin until several pages in. Once it did, Siegfried swiftly became engrossed. Tristan had painted a vivid picture of life in a small English village that went about its daily routines with the ever-present knowledge of the wonders below their streets.

In many ways, this town reminded Siegfried of Darrowby and its inhabitants. He could see a lot of Biggins in the difficult constable who always seemed to be wandering the streets day and night. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Mrs. Pumphrey as the kindly, philanthropic grandmother who lived in the mansion just outside the village and Tricki as the eager young historian who was her grandson and who lived with her.

Although, Siegfried couldn't quite figure out whom Tristan was thinking of when his little brother created the mayor of the town, an overall good-hearted, but rather tyrannical figure. Not that it mattered. Siegfried enjoyed the character immensely and frequently chuckled at mayor's witticisms and sympathized with the difficulties he faced in trying to keep the village affairs running smoothly while dealing with an outbreak of dinosaurs.

"… _A sharp snap halted their approach to the cavern entrance. It was the sound of wood, green and new, breaking under the pressure of heavy footfalls. Footfalls that were not likely to be human ones. Corbyn and Foster hid behind a rotting log._

" _Allosaurus," Foster mouthed._

 _Corbyn felt the cold thrill of dread course through him. So far, they had found ways to tame the ferocious instincts of every Allosaurus they had run across, however, their luck could not hold out forever. There had been too many carcasses of sheep found in this area to assume that all of them could be tamed._

 _Foster reached down, placing his finger onto the trigger of his gun as they readied themselves to run."_

One of the dogs barked in the hallway which immediately inspired the rest of them to join in. The noise made Siegfried start and nearly drop the journal in his hands. The barking soon increased in volume, and Siegfried scowled as he sat the journal down, leapt to his feet, and marched out of the surgery.

"Shut up, you lot," he bellowed into the corridor. The cacophony immediately stopped with the dogs rushing out from the living room.

Instead of contrition though, Siegfried was greeted by a sea of smiling furry faces and wagging tails. He let out a sigh of resignation and reached down to pat each head.

"Oh all right, I will take you lot out for a walk later," he told them. "Now, go on. Shoo, shoo!"

Siegfried waved his hands at them and they scattered off again. Satisfied that they'd be quiet for a while, Siegfried started to back up into the surgery.

"Mr. Farnon?"

Siegfried closed his eyes in frustration and waited until he could put a polite smile onto his face before re-opening them.

"Yes, Mrs. Hall?" he replied, facing toward the kitchen. He thought that he had managed to keep all of his impatience out of his tone, but the slight frown that appeared on Mrs. Hall's face was evidence that he wasn't entirely successful.

"Would you like me to serve afternoon tea now?"

"Yes, yes, tea would be…no, no, wait, I…."

Siegfried pulled out his pocket watch and consulted it. James should be almost finished with the sheep, but still had one other stop to make. And as for Tristan, he now suspected that the new barmaid at the Drovers was the explanation for his little brother's disappearance. Siegfried knew that she tended to leave the pub in time to cook dinner for her family which would most likely coincide with his little brother's decision to finally head back home. Thus, Siegfried calculated that he had about an hour before they would be back.

"Um, how about we wait until, say, an hour from now, Mrs. Hall? So that James and Helen will have time to get back and have tea as well."

Mrs. Hall crossed her arms in front of her. "That will put it close to dinner."

Siegfried did his best to impart even more Farnon charm into smile. "I know. I know it will, but, well, there's no sense in my having tea by myself, is there? And I am certain that we can all enjoy your exquisite cooking twice with no need for a long interval in-between."

Mrs. Hall actually showed remarkable restraint by only rolling her eyes slightly before silently heading back into the kitchen. Once she was gone, Siegfried took one last peek up and down the hallway and then in the surgery's waiting room before finally sitting back down with Tristan's journal.

The more he read, the more Siegfried became convinced that Tristan's prose reminded him not so much of Burroughs' as he originally thought. Perhaps more like H.G. Wells instead. Yes, it was full of action and even some romance courtesy of the plot line which involved the local blacksmith's daughter falling in love with Corbyn, the handsome, energetic vet who was an obvious reference to Tristan himself. Although, Siegfried could not stop being incredulous at the notion that Tristan could actually consider himself "energetic".

However, in-between the breathless moments of action and the humorous asides with the local residents, there were some deeper thoughts about the value of unspoiled nature, the preservation of the past versus the need to progress into the future, and the idea that women could be true equals in society.

As he read, Siegfried was shocked whenever he checked his pocket watch again and realized how much time had flown by. He had become entranced by the mysterious and yet whimsical world that Tristan had concocted and simply could not stop reading.

Perhaps the most fascinating thing of all to Siegfried was how much of Tristan he could see in his little brother's words. It was all there. Tristan's abundance of humor, his vivid imagination, his sentimental inclinations in romantic matters, his wit, intellect and curiosity. All of it was infused into every page of this journal. Of course, the prose wasn't perfect. There were a few grammatical errors and some minor plot inconsistencies, but there was also vast potential.

All of which made even more questions spring to Siegfried's mind. Like why hadn't he noticed Tristan's gift for storytelling before. And why had he started writing here recently. Was this something Tristan only viewed as a hobby or could he have more serious ambitions in mind?

Another chorus of barks made Siegfried jerk upward in his chair again and toss the journal back to where he found it on the corner of the desk. The sound of the front door opening and closing a few seconds later confirmed his suspicions that he had run out of time. Unfortunately, it was just as Corbyn and Foster were getting ready to open the secret iron door that had previously been hidden in the darkest corners of the underground caverns. He missed his chance to find out what they were about to discover inside.

Eager to keep up the subterfuge, Siegfried jumped up from his chair and began making a show out of cleaning some of the instruments. Not long after he started, the surgery door opened.

"Hello, Siegfried."

Siegfried looked over his shoulder to see James walk in and sit his bag on one of the counters.

"Hello James…how did it go at Benson's?"

"Fine," James answered. "No complications at all."

"Good, good," Siegfried said as he flicked water from his fingertips. He dried the scalpel in his hands and took it over to the sterilizer before finally getting to the question he actually had in mind.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Tristan is, by any chance, would you?"

"Tris? I'm not sure." James dug some bottles out of his bag and placed them onto the counter. "He did say something to me earlier about doing a follow up for you at Wiggins'. Those two dogs you've been treating for conjunctivitis."

"Yes, yes," Siegfried replied, waving his index finger. "I asked him to see if the treatment I've got them on now was having any effect. I'd already arranged for him to stop by Sharpe's place and they're just down the road from each other."

"And you do know that today is Janet Watson's day to work later at the Drovers?" James grinned at him. "So I'm sure he found time to stop by for a pint."

"Yes, as if he needs an attractive girl as an excuse for his usual excesses," Siegfried snorted.

James chuckled again and finished emptying out his bag before putting the vials and bottles away. He dropped off some money into the office's cashbox and made a couple of notations in the ledger. He looked as if he was about to leave when he suddenly paused and looked down at Tristan's journal. Then, much to Siegfried's surprise, James picked it up and tucked it under his arm.

"Something the matter, James?" Siegfried asked, making careful note of the odd expression that had suddenly appeared on James' face.

"No, no, it's nothing," James hastened to reply.

"Oh yes, I was wondering about that book on the desk," Siegfried continued. "I found it while I was looking for the daybook, but didn't recognize it. Is it yours?"

"No, um, it's Tris' actually," James said cagily. "You know, he's been swotting a lot here lately, so I told him I'd help him with his revision notes. He must have left this here for me to look over. I think I'll drop it off in his room."

Siegfried was about to try another question, but James darted off before he could say any more.

Still, what he had managed to glean was very interesting indeed. So, James knew about the journal, but was trying to hide it from him. Could they be collaborating on this story together? And why were they trying so hard…and so clumsily…to keep it a secret? Curiouser and curiouser….

Siegfried shook his head and went back to cleaning the rest of his instruments. Of course, it wasn't really his business anyway if James and Tristan wanted to write fanciful science fiction in their spare time. There certainly were worse hobbies his little brother could get involved with. Siegfried knew that he probably should just drop it for the time being.

Still…there was that secret door…and Corbyn and Foster were sure to find a key to deciphering the code on those stones on the other side of it….

Siegfried sighed. He cursed himself for not reading a little faster so he could have found out what happened next. Now he might not ever know.

And that, well, that was quickly becoming completely unacceptable to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

After years of living with Siegfried Farnon, Tristan had come to expect a certain amount of eccentricity in his life.

Of course, there was the usual stuff he had to put up with, such as Siegfried's constant tendency for inconsistency in his words and actions or his elder brother's demeanor shifting from civil to tyrannical at a moment's notice. Then there were the less well-known quirks such as Siegfried's secret love of putting honey on as many baked goods as possible or the way his eyebrows danced whenever he played Bezique with anyone.

Tristan was familiar with all of this, and consequently he had become inured to it, making it very difficult for anything Siegfried did to surprise him anymore. And yet, there were still times when his elder brother managed to baffle him. Such as with his odd behavior of late.

* * *

It started not long after he had returned to Skeldale after another visit with Janet at the Drovers yesterday. He had gotten back at the tail end of afternoon tea, a surprise in and of itself as Mrs. Hall didn't tend to serve it so late in the day. Tristan had fully expected Siegfried to make a comment about his "wiling away his hours" at the pub.

He certainly hadn't anticipated the response he had gotten to his arrival.

"Ah, Tristan. I imagine you got the jobs on your list done? Good man. That's the important thing anyway. And there's always tomorrow for anything you might have missed around here."

Such an easy-going, congenial reaction was startling on its own. But then came Siegfried's strangely cordial and yet insistent requests for his little brother to spend the evening at home.

"You've had a long day, Tristan. I'm sure it was very tiring for you. And the weather looks like it could become frightful at any moment. It's a perfect night for staying in. We could have some coffee and you can get some much needed revision done. Or you could work on…anything else that you might be interested in. Something more relaxing, perhaps. Like reading a good book or…or whatever else you might like to do to unwind."

As it happened, Tristan did end up spending the evening in his room, mainly because he was unusually tired and had planned on an early night anyway since he wasn't assigned to night call outs.

* * *

The next afternoon, Tristan ended up sitting in the living room, taking in blissful puffs on his latest Woodbine while contemplating the day he had had thus far.

Siegfried was up to something. Had to be. There was no other logical explanation for why Siegfried was being so amiable with him.

Especially after what had happened this morning.

* * *

Earlier that day, not only did Siegfried offer him what was sure to be a slow morning surgery, but had also given him a list of jobs in the afternoon that were both quick errands and quite close together distance-wise.

Put together, it meant that he would be able to breeze though his day and have plenty of free time to himself both during and after his work was done. When his elder brother handed out his assignments, Tristan had been expecting the penny to drop and to find out that Siegfried had lined up a bunch of boring, taxing chores for him to do around Skeldale.

But no, once again, his brother was being magnanimous and informed him that he'd have carte blanche for the rest of the day once he got his jobs done so that he could attend to any other "pressing matters" he might need to.

* * *

Tristan took another long drag on his cigarette, his brow furrowing. This was just like Siegfried. Instead of being able to enjoy the streamlined workload and the increased freedom that came with it, Tristan kept second-guessing every word and action from his elder brother, searching for a hint of the true motives, good or bad, behind Siegfried's behavior.

More importantly, Tristan was desperately trying to work out whether or not Siegfried thought he was the one up to something. Could his brother have found out that he was the one who had shattered that bottle of fever drink while he was demonstrating to Mr. Calvert the best way to swing a cricket bat during his surgery hours three days ago? No, he had been careful enough to plant plenty of evidence that implicated one of Siegfried's dogs instead. He searched his memory for other schemes he'd pulled off and couldn't find any that were recent enough to warrant this sort of stratagem from his elder brother.

Could it be Janet? Siegfried always was trying to interfere with his social life, despite his elder brother's ridiculous assertions to the contrary. No, that couldn't be it. If Siegfried didn't approve of his spending time with Janet, wouldn't he be finding ways to give him less free time rather than more?

No, it had to be something else. But what?

Thankfully, these perplexing, frustrating thoughts were finally interrupted by James walking into the living room.

"Oh hello, James," he said as he snuffed out the remains of his Woodbine. Then he spotted the journal tucked under James' arm. "What did you think of the new chapter? Pretty hot stuff, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was," James laughed, sitting down next to him on the couch. "And that was very clever of you, using that letter in Beckett's room to tip off Claxton to Morgan's plot to commit murder via dinosaur. Claxton's no fool. He'll use his powers as mayor to do something."

"Oh I can assure you he will," Tristan nodded. "And thank you for that. You know, I did get the idea from you. You kept telling me that Morgan's penchant for keeping a record of everything he did should get him in trouble at some point. And well, we both know that Claxton snooping around in Morgan's room is just the sort of thing Siegfried would do…if he wasn't so concerned with keeping up the appearance of someone with manners."

James chuckled as he handed Tristan the journal. As soon as it was in his hands, Tristan opened it up and flipped to the last couple of pages he had written. He already had ideas about how he was going to have Claxton take care of Morgan. He just needed to make sure to find one that didn't conflict with what he had written so far.

"You know, you ought to be more careful with that," James said. "I found it in the surgery after I got back from my rounds yesterday."

Tristan gritted his teeth and slapped his forehead. "I thought I had left it on that shelf in your room. No, that's right…Joe Mulligan stopped by with Clancy again for a bottle of the usual stuff before I could get away. That dog had me so spooked, I forgot all about giving you the journal."

"Well, no harm done," James said. "At least you didn't lose it. And thankfully, Clancy didn't get a hold of it either."

"Yes," Tristan nodded, shuddering at the thought of what Clancy could have done to it. Then, suddenly, an even more dreadful thought occurred to him.

"James…you don't think that Siegfried saw it, do you?"

James' brow crinkled. "He did see it on the desk…."

Tristan immediately cringed, but managed to stay silent while James continued on.

"…but I don't think he read any of it. When I picked it up, he seemed to think it was mine. I assume he knows your handwriting well enough to know that it was yours if he had actually read any of it."

Tristan let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, there is that. You're right, James. Totally right. About all of it. I will make sure to keep better track of it in the future. And thank goodness Siegfried didn't read it. Can you imagine what would happen if he did? He'd probably blow a fuse."

"Why?" James asked. "I think there's a lot of good stuff in there."

"Like that would matter to Siegfried if he figured out who I based Claxton off of," Tristan scoffed. "Better that he never finds out about this at all, James. The last thing I need is Siegfried having yet another excuse to express his own version of 'brotherly love'."

"Well, there is that, I'll grant you," James nodded thoughtfully.

"James…are you sure that Siegfried didn't take a look in here? Because he has been acting rather odd of late. Odd even for him. Maybe he's plotting some kind of revenge."

"Oh come on, Tris," James laughed. "You know as well as I do that Siegfried has his unpredictable moods. And don't forget, he did manage to collect a very generous fee for his work with those racehorses over in Brawton. That'll take care of all our bills for a month. So it's possible that he's just in a good mood."

"Yes, well, there's a good mood for Siegfried and then there's the calm before the storm," Tristan replied. "Either way, we better keep this out of sight for now."

"Well all right, but I still say you're worrying over nothing," James replied. "Siegfried couldn't possibly object to you having a hobby during your leisure time."

"Oh James, you haven't been paying attention at all since you've moved here, have you?" Tristan sighed. "Oh well…never mind about all that. I've got a great idea for the next chapter. You're going to love it."

Tristan looked around the room and then leaned toward James.

"Remember that detective from Scotland Yard? Poulton? Well, I finally figured out a way to bring him back."

"You didn't," James laughed again. "But how, Tris? I thought he had been trapped with that spinosaurus four chapters ago. How could he have survived? There wasn't any way out of that antechamber."

Tristan grinned and waved an index finger at him. "Tut, tut, James, my boy. Things are never what they seem."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed by uneventfully enough.

After chatting with James about his latest ideas for the next chapter, James went off to spend time with Helen while Tristan decided to stop by for a quick pint at the Drovers before dinner. Janet would only be there for another hour, but there was plenty that a man could say and do in an hour that could make all the difference in the world.

Not to mention how enjoying a good pint…or two…was always a worthwhile way to spend an hour.

Unfortunately, the Drovers ended up being busier than usual, and Janet was only available to chat for a few minutes at a time. Thus, Tristan ended up spending most of the time sitting by himself at the corner of the bar. He soon decided to make use of his time alone by working out a few more plot ideas he had thought up while out on his rounds earlier.

Tristan smiled as he finished off his beer and thought about how he had gotten started on this writing hobby in the first place.

A few months before James came to Skeldale, a friend of Tristan's at veterinary college had become obsessed with dinosaur fossils. He would ramble on about the articles he read on the subject to anyone who would listen, including Tristan.

At first, Tristan had only listened out of politeness, but eventually, all the random facts he heard about dinosaurs became fascinating to him. The idea that such creatures were stomping around millions ago intrigued him and he began to imagine how different the study of veterinary medicine could have been if they still had to deal with dinosaurs today.

Consequently, whenever he was stuck listening to a particularly boring lecture, those thoughts became a way to escape the monotony. Anatomy lectures would never be boring in a world that was still populated by dinosaurs. He was certain of that. Well…except maybe for Professor Henderson's lectures. That man could make medieval sword fights tedious.

Thus, it wasn't long before his vague musings began to morph into stories, little fantasies about characters who were much like his friends and family in real life going on dinosaur themed adventures together. He used to make up stories when he was a kid looking for something to fill his time while waiting around whenever Siegfried took him out on his rounds. And just like back then, Tristan never saw a need to write any of these stories down. They were just for his own amusement anyway.

Then came the afternoon when James casually mentioned how he'd enjoyed seeing a dinosaur exhibit at a museum he had visited years ago while on holiday with his family. After that, it didn't take long for the conversation to drift from offhand comments about dinosaurs to actual discussions about what each of them found interesting about them. Eventually, Tristan threw in a comment about what it would be like if there were dinosaurs in Darrowby.

It had been meant as a joke, but James surprised him yet again by immediately becoming intrigued by the idea and offering his own speculations about what applying veterinary medicine to dinosaurs might be like. As a result, a casual, but serious conversation about dinosaurs soon became a shared daydream about the adventures a vet could have in such a world.

The tossing back and forth of ideas had been so much fun, Tristan felt a strong urge to preserve these tale-spinning sessions in writing. His retentive memory proved invaluable as he gathered together plot threads and character ideas into a coherent narrative form. He recorded them into a blank journal he'd bought when a nurse friend of his suggested he try a new system she invented for revision notes. Her ideas turned out to be flakey, but Tristan was glad he had something so handy to write his stories into.

Initially, he had fully intended on keeping these written pieces to himself, but then he had accidently let it slip that he was keeping a record. James insisted that he would love to have the chance to look back on the stories they had previously toyed with.

Tristan leaned back and signaled for another beer. Over time, he realized that this had become more than just a way to enjoy some additional camaraderie with James. He fleshed out the stories in his spare time and organized them. Their fictional world was taking on a life of its own, and the act of writing became its own hobby.

Consequently, those story-telling sessions soon took on another dimension. They still shared ideas, but now there was also the pleasure Tristan got out of watching James read and enjoy his latest writings. That was something he hadn't expected. The thought that James was actually excited to read what he had written next was beyond gratifying.

These days, James treated every new chapter of their story as a gift. Whereas Tristan often felt as if he was the one who was receiving something.

"Tris? Tristan?"

Tristan blinked and made sure to smile when he discovered Janet standing in front of him and putting his latest pint onto the bar.

"Oh I swear, Tris, you look like you were a million miles away."

Tristan grinned back at her. "Years, not miles, my dear Janet. Only years."

Confusion creased Janet's features and Tristan laughed.

"Never mind about that. Let's talk about something far more interesting. Like the way the light in here makes the most beautiful reflection in your eyes…."

* * *

A few minutes later, Tristan returned to Skeldale, both slightly tight and ready to eat a banquet. He was so eager to get to the living room that he ran into Siegfried in the hallway. Quite literally as it turned out.

"I'm sorry, Siegfried, I was just…."

Siegfried beamed at him and patted his arms. "Never mind, my dear boy, never mind. The smell of Mrs. Hall's absolutely scrumptious cooking can make any man eager to rush to the table. I'm sure you're hungry after the long day you've had."

Tristan gave him an uncertain smile. "Well, yes, I am rather."

"Good," Siegfried replied. "Then eat hearty, Tristan, so that you'll have the energy you need for whatever activities you may have planned."

"Um, I thought I was supposed to be handling the night calls tonight."

"And you still are, little brother. But that doesn't mean there won't be any time for other things. I'm certain you'll make use of the hours you will still have available."

Siegfried patted his arms again and spun on his heel to march toward the dining room, the pack of dogs following at his heels.

Tristan stood there, his mouth hanging open. Yes, his elder brother definitely had to be up to something. If only he could figure out what it was.

At the very least, he hoped he would figure it out before this mystery drove him mad.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 **Author's Note** : Last chapter. Sorry this one took me so long to finish.

 _Binkeybelle_ : Thank you for your kind words. :) Yes, I thought that this probably could go on for a while too. XD However, as you'll see in this last chapter, one is finally going to crack after all. I wonder if it will be the one you thought it would be...

* * *

Sometimes, inspiration could come from the most unexpected of sources.

This was something that Tristan had realized years ago. Reading the newspaper had given him ideas for more than one masterful prank. Local gossip gave him hints for places to take a date who was looking for "something different" to do. Thus, Tristan knew that it was always a good idea to pay at least a little attention to everything going on around him, even if it looked boring on the surface.

However, this axiom turned out to be even more relevant in regards to writing.

While he was treating some sheep for pasture bloat, he finally figured out how he could explain Corbyn and Foster getting out of that tunnel with an allosaurus chomping at their heels.

' _Gases, of course, gases. Gases trapped in a pocket in a side tunnel. Why hadn't I thought of it before? Corbyn could ignite them with his torch. It's brilliant. And will make for a hell of an ending to that chapter.'_

He'd been so excited, he almost forgot to let Mr. Appleton know that his sheep would get better. After finishing the job, Tristan drove back toward Skeldale, a huge grin on his face.

' _James is going to be on tenterhooks after reading this. Although…I might have to pick his brain anyway to make it work. Oh well….'_

The rest of his journey was filled with thoughts about how to convey the excitement and terror needed to make that scene come to life. He knew that James was out on a date with Helen and that Siegfried was probably still out on his rounds. So he'd have more than enough time to beg Mrs. Hall for a quick cup of tea and get in some uninterrupted writing time.

Once he got home, Tristan sped the car into the garage and decided to enter through the surgery waiting room to both save time and spare himself from another chorus of barking dogs.

What he hadn't expected was to find Siegfried in the surgery. Tristan's mouth fell open and he immediately ducked back toward the waiting room.

For a second, Tristan considered silently exiting through the back door and taking off for the Drovers. While Siegfried had been rather easy-going on him work-wise of late, it did not mean that he wanted to be around when his elder brother's current spate of altruism ran out.

Just as he was about to leave though, something Tristan had seen in that quick glance made him pause. Carefully, he poked his head around the corner of the waiting room and peered inside.

Siegfried was sitting at the desk in the surgery, apparently unaware of Tristan's presence. His brother was settled back in his chair, his glasses on and a book in his hands. Tristan took another careful step inside and discovered that it wasn't actually a book that Siegfried was looking at. Well, not a regular book anyway. Whatever it was, it was too big to be a normal book.

In fact, it looked like…it looked just like….

"Hang on!" Tristan said, bursting into the surgery. "Siegfried what are you…that's my property!"

The effect on Siegfried was instantaneous. His elder brother nearly fell off his chair and was only just able to remain upright as he scrambled to his feet.

"Tristan, I…what are you doing back already?" Siegfried demanded. "You were supposed to stop by both Colville's and Appleton's place. Don't tell me you've forgotten about one of them."

Tristan narrowed his eyes at him and snorted. "That's more like something you'd do, isn't it? And Colville's cow just had a wire in her mouth. Appleton's sheep just had some bloat. You know as well as I do that none of that takes long to fix." He marched over closer to Siegfried.

"And now maybe you can tell me what you're doing with that. That's my private journal."

Siegfried glanced down at his hands, a guilty look on his face, and immediately plopped the journal onto the desk.

"Hardly private, is it, Tristan?" he said, taking off his glasses. "Not when James is reading it too."

For a moment, Tristan's mind latched onto what Siegfried just said and puzzled over how his elder brother could know that. However, his growing anger blotted out that question from his mind.

"That's not the point. You took that out of my room without permission. It's an invasion of my privacy, and I think that's pretty low. Even for you."

A thunderous look appeared on Siegfried's face. Ordinarily, it was more than enough to make Tristan nervous about what could be coming next. But he was beyond caring about that.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Siegfried growled at him. Tristan huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Never mind. Just…."

Tristan pushed past Siegfried so he could grab his journal from the desk. Then, with another angry shake of his head, he turned to storm out into the hallway. If Siegfried was going to be upset with him, fine. He didn't care.

Besides, the hurt would probably end up overtaking the anger soon enough anyway.

Tristan clutched the journal close to his chest. He was still mad that Siegfried had gone through his things. While his brother had always kept track of his social life far more than Tristan would have liked, Siegfried had also made sure to respect the normal boundaries between siblings. Which included allowing his brother a measure of privacy in his own room.

The fact that Siegfried had violated that trust had hurt far more than Tristan had expected it to.

Still, lurking close behind all those injured feelings was plenty of mortification. It was all right for James to read the journal. James knew it was all just for a laugh and a bit of fun between friends. Tristan didn't have to worry about what he would think of him.

But what would Siegfried make of it? Had James been right the other day? Had Siegfried also read it when he accidently left it in the surgery? And if he had…just how much had his elder brother read already? Had Siegfried discovered the parts where he gently poked fun at him? Or did he consider the whole thing to be rubbish and too silly to even earn derision?

"Tristan, I…."

Tristan had already put his hand onto the doorknob, but ended up pausing where he stood. He couldn't walk away from the soft tone in his brother's voice. Instead, he remained where he was, his back to Siegfried and his head bowed.

"Tristan, I owe you a profound apology. You're absolutely right. I had no right at all to go through your possessions or read your writings without your permission. I have no excuse and can only hope that you'll forgive me. Even if I don't deserve it."

Tristan took a shuddering breath. It was never easy for him to hold onto anger, especially toward someone who meant as much to him as his brother did.

"Why did you do it?" Tristan asked in a small voice.

He regretted the question as soon as he had asked it, but there was still that tiny, insistent part of his brain that hadn't been able to let it go.

Siegfried let out a long sigh while Tristan tightened his grip on the journal to steady his hands.

"It was purely by accident at first," Siegfried began. "You had left this journal out in the surgery."

Tristan finally turned to face him, his expression both questioning and exasperated. "How do you accidently read someone's journal?"

Siegfried scratched his head. "Once I realized that this wasn't a book of revision notes, I had fully intended to stop reading and think nothing else about it. But then…well…."

Tristan stared at him, still dreading the inevitable mocking that he was certain was forthcoming. "What?"

Siegfried let out another sigh and sat down onto a corner of the desk. "Tristan…do you have any idea what you've written?"

"It's just a bit of fun, Siegfried," Tristan said, forcing himself to add a laugh to his words. "That's all it is, honestly. I didn't mean to…."

"Well, it's absurd," Siegfried cut in. "Miniature dinosaurs living in the Dales in modern times. A lost civilization that just happens to exist underneath a picturesque English village. By all sensible conventions in literature, it shouldn't work at all. And yet it does. You know, you really have something here, Tristan. It's a story with suspense, romance, heart and grand ideas."

The staged levity Tristan had tried to project quickly melted into astonishment. Was Siegfried actually praising his story-telling efforts? That seemed much more far-fetched than any of the stories he had written for Corbyn and Foster.

"Have you ever thought about doing this professionally?" Siegfried continued, standing back up. "Seeing if you could get your stories published?"

Tristan frowned. "Oh now you're having a laugh." He tried to back away again, but Siegfried took hold of his arm.

"Not at all," his elder brother countered. "People hardly refer to the works of H.G. Well or Edgar Allen Poe as empty trifles. And they both wrote fantastical stories like yours."

"But they were real authors. I'm just a vet student trying to get qualified. And who has ever heard of a vet publishing stories? Who would read them? Why would they read them?"

"Why wouldn't they read them? If doctors, solicitors and politicians can become writers, I see no reason why a vet…or a vet student, in your case…couldn't become a successful author as well."

Tristan finally pulled away from Siegfried grip and sat down on the same spot his brother had occupied a moment ago. It really was a lot to take in, the idea that Siegfried had not only liked his literary efforts, but actually believed that they should be shared with the world.

It was unfathomable. Impossible. It had to be some sort of fever dream. And yet…it wasn't. Tristan knew his brother well enough to know that Siegfried was completely serious.

For a moment, Tristan was swept away in a fantasy where he could see his books in shops, in libraries, and in the hands of an admiring public who eagerly awaited his next literary effort. Just as sudden as it had appeared, though, the dream evaporated, and Tristan immediately understood why.

"Siegfried, I, well…." Tristan took a deep breath. "This whole thing only started up because James and I were having some fun. It's just a hobby, you see. That's all."

Tristan finally stood up and began pacing around the surgery. There was a twinge of regret with each word he said, but the fact that it was only a twinge felt telling.

"And, and if I tried to publish it and all…well, maybe some people would like it and maybe they'd wonder if I was going to write any more. But then, it wouldn't be about fun anymore. Not with all those people wondering when I was going to get on with more writing. And I've have to make sure that the next book was as good, if not better than the first one. Because if it wasn't and a lot of people hated it…I'd always wonder what I was doing wrong."

"My dear Tristan, you cannot let fear of failure dictate how you live your life," Siegfried said gently. "Of course, there's no guarantee that people will love your work, but that's true whether we are talking about literary pursuits or veterinary medicine."

Siegfried's face softened even more. It was a look Tristan recognized even though he hadn't seen it for quite a while. Despite the fact that he always felt a swell of affection toward his elder brother when he saw it, this wasn't an expression Tristan looked forward to.

That look Siegfried got on his face whenever he was worried about him.

"Tristan, think of all the enjoyment people could derive from your stories. Even if the readers solely see it as a rambunctious adventure, they could take part in a journey that would provide hours of pleasure and amusement to their lives. You said yourself that you started this enterprise because it was fun for you and brought you joy. Wouldn't you like to share that with others?"

A wan smile appeared on Tristan's face. "But I already am sharing it, Siegfried. And for now, that's enough for me."

Siegfried held his gaze for a few more seconds before finally giving him a nod of understanding.

"I do wish you would reconsider. Accomplishing a milestone in life like publishing a book, even if it was just for your own gratification, would be an experience like no other."

"It probably would." Tristan's fingers curled over the spine of his journal. "But I…maybe someday, Siegfried. Maybe after I'm qualified or…someday."

"Yes, of course," Siegfried replied. He patted Tristan's arm and cleared his throat.

"And while we are on the subject of things that need to be attended to, Mr. Barge will be coming by for lunch tomorrow. I'll need to know what supplies need replenishing. Since you've got nothing else going on for the afternoon, you can help me with the inventory."

"But Siegfried…."

"You did say that you wanted to be a qualified vet, did you not? Well then, effective management of instruments and supplies are a vital responsibility that you will need to learn. And what better way to learn than with hands-on work? Now come on, quit whining and let's get on with it."

* * *

A week later, Tristan danced around the surgery, putting things away.

Surgery hours were over and tonight, he and James and Helen were going to a dance and dinner at the Drovers. Carol, the nurse who had recently transferred to Darrowby from Brawton was the perfect dance partner. And a wonderful kisser as well. Thus, Tristan was certain that this would be a night to remember.

Tristan twirled as he put the last instrument away and then peeled out of his lab coat with a wide flourish. Siegfried had drawn the short straw this time and had to stay in for any possible night calls. Tristan could almost feel sorry for him. That is, if he could forget about that rotten pig job at Calder's place yesterday. As it was, Tristan was pretty sure that the trousers he had been wearing at the time were beyond hope. That is, unless Mrs. Hall could pull off a miracle.

A smirk appeared on Tristan's face. No, it served that devil right to stay cooped up at home after saddling his poor brother with that hellish job. Especially as Mrs. Hall was visiting her sister that evening and was leaving Siegfried with a plate of sandwiches. If there was any fairness in the world, Siegfried would have to deal with at least a couple of nuisance jobs for good measure.

James poked his head in the surgery. "You about ready, Tris? Helen and I are going to head out to the car."

"All fixed up," Tristan grinned at him. "I just need to get my jacket from upstairs."

James nodded and backed out of the room. A few seconds later, Tristan could hear the muffled sounds of voices and then the front door opening and closing.

Tristan turned off the light and crept into the hallway. Siegfried still hadn't returned from that follow-up visit for one of Mrs. Bond's cats. Thankfully, it wasn't Boris this time, so Tristan was certain that his brother would be back any time now.

He trotted up the stairs, put on his jacket and grinned again at his reflection in the mirror. Just as he was about to walk out of his room, his eyes happened to be drawn to his writing journal on the nightstand next to his bed.

A wry smile appeared on his face. He'd filled several pages since his talk with Siegfried and was quite pleased with the results thus far. Still, he couldn't deny that he was curious to know if his older brother would agree with his assessment.

Tristan grabbed the journal, rushed back down the stairs and sat it down in the living room next to the book Siegfried had been reading yesterday.

"We're off, Mrs. Hall. Have a lovely evening with your sister. I'm sure you'll be back before we will."


End file.
